Prism White
by Cr1msonRa1n
Summary: While Brain Burst originated in Japan, it was not contained at the border. Travelers and opportunists have spread the secret game across the globe, everywhere from northern Canada to southern Africa. This is the story of one American player, and his decidedly over-powered gifts.
1. Chapter 1 - Life, As Normal

I wake up with a start, breathing heavily. That has to have been the most disturbing dream I've ever had... Feeling somewhat distressed, I look around me, taking in the familiar sight of my small bedroom, in my average suburban home. Everything is undisturbed; all my models where I left them, my desk still cluttered as ever, and my walls just as full of game posters as always.

I get up and wander down the hall to the bathroom, looking to splash some water on my face to wake myself up. Vague memories of the dream -no, nightmare- still swirling about in my mind. I don't remember anything specific, but I think I may have seen myself lying dead, from the perspective of multiple other sets of eyes. I remember feeling a strange sort of apathy, seeing my own body bleeding out before me, not experiencing the panic that should obviously have accompanied such a sight.

Splashing some cool water on my face, I finally manage to calm my nerves somewhat. Seeing my own face reflected in the mirror catches me off guard for a second, and for a single, brief moment the droplets of water still clinging to my face seem a bright and deep red hue. Like blood. The image passes almost immediately, as quickly as it came, but the feeling of dread that accompanies it is still there.

I stumble back into my room again, and take a glance at the clock on the stand next to my bed. Crap. It's nearly six-thirty already. Well, I reason with myself, no point in trying to go back to sleep now.

As quietly as I can, I boot up one of the old game consoles hooked up to the small TV I keep mounted in the corner. I pop in one of the new puzzle games I picked up at a nearby flea market. The title screen boots up, and for a little over an hour, I sit alone, quietly solving puzzles rendered in charming 16-bit graphics.

Eventually, my alarm goes off, and I reach over from my perch on the far side of the bed to silence it. Quarter to eight already? I sigh, saving my progress in the puzzle game, and shutting down the antique game system.

I put on some random clothes that don't look too wrinkled off of my bedroom floor, check my NeuroLinker, and head downstairs for a quick bite of breakfast before heading out to school. My mom's already in the kitchen, making oatmeal, and she hears me coming down the stairs before I get to the kitchen. As I pop my bread in the toaster, I catch a disapproving look from her in my peripheral vision. I turn sheepishly to face her, already knowing what she's about to say, "We both know you got those clothes off your floor. Go back upstairs and get something clean"

Dang. Busted.

I run back upstairs and throw on some other, cleaner clothing; a light-gray t-shirt, faded gray jeans, and a thin black jacket with a vaguely military cut. I hear the toaster let out a small ding as I make my way back down the stairs. When I turn in to the kitchen, however, I see my younger brother taking the toast for himself, already partially through making a sandwich out of some bacon and his stolen bread.

I let out a disappointed grunt, and look to my mother for support. She shrugs and says, "Maybe next time you'll get dressed properly the first time" She gives me a little smile and a wink, and I see my brother dig smugly into his sandwich as he gathers his things for school.

I glance at the oven's clock as my brother retreats down the hall, and decide I don't have the time to make another batch of toast. Instead, I settle for a granola bar I find wedged halfway into the back of the small wall-mounted pantry.

I eat it in three quick bites, gathering my messenger bag and keys, and throw the wrapper out on my way out the door. "I'll be home late," I call back towards the kitchen, where my mom still sits, eating, "I'm going to Arin's place after classes!"

"What for?" My mother calls back. "He's showing me a new full-dive game he gave me to install yesterday. He made me promise to wait 'till tonight to try it" I respond.

"Alright, but don't be back too late, and drive carfully."

"Will do. See you tonight"

I wave my brother outside, onto the driveway, and into my modest two-door sedan. Once we're inside the car, and safely away from mom's eye, I punch him on the shoulder, "Next time you take my food, you better be feeling pretty lucky" I tell him, playfully. He laughs, "Oh yeah," he responds "I'm sooo terrified." Heh, someone's feeling cocky today.

I drop him off at school, and as he walks away from the car, I roll down the window and call out "Goodbye Jonah, you're brother _wuvs youuu!_ " dragging out the final syllable to exaggerated sweetness. He glances back, and I can see the embarrassment on his face, although he hides it quickly.

I pull away from the Junior High feeling satisfied in my victory. Next time, he'll make his own food. Probably.

I drive for another few minutes, flipping through the radio, until I pull into the college's parking lot. I kill the engine and leave my car, preparing for another long day of classes.


	2. Chapter 2 - First Glimpse

After classes, I meet Arin in the parking lot, by my car. He's wearing a t-shirt with some Japanese anime character on it, a light dress shirt with rolled up sleeves over top, and a pair of beige cargo pants. On most other people, the outfit would've looked somewhat lame, but with his jet black hair lying back loosely over the top of his head, and the confident semi-smirk he almost always wore, he pulled it off pretty well.

I stepped up and gave him a small fist-bump, followed by a high-five. A tradition of ours, which started back in elementary school. He grins and asks me "Have you installed that game I gave you?" He asks nonchalantly, but I see a slight edge of worry beneath his calm exterior. What, did he think I was gonna pass up the opportunity at a new game? Fat chance. "All loaded up. You're sure this thing isn't a virus?" I ask, "I mean, it installed in less than a minute, but the file's gigantic."

"It's all good," he assures me, "this game's just really well made. Real next-level stuff." He motions to my car door, asking to get in. I unlock the doors manually (my remote's dead, and I haven't had a real reason to replace the battery), and we both get in.

Arin lives near my place, so I know the route well. On the ride there, he and I discuss new and exciting games coming out in the next month or two, and Arin tells me about some new anime he's watching, where giant robots fight eachother in some kind of battle royale. I tell him that sounds awesome, and that I'd love to do something like that. A huge grin splits his face at that, although he refuses to tell me why.

We arrive at his house and enter it through the front door. "My folks are out for the next month or so on some business trip," he tells me, heading towards what I know from past experience is a basement game-room "we've got the entire place to ourselves." I follow, ducking under a small overhang in the stairway that does't agree with my rather advanced height.

At the bottom of the stairs is a room stretching back over about a third of Arin's house, with a nice TV set up in the corner with antique gaming consoles (including the model I have at home) plugged into it. Along one wall are a cluster of even older arcade cabinets, and a slightly rusted pinball machine. Arin's folks like antique games almost as much as he and I do, so this part of their home has been officially set aside for their collection.

Arin points over to a pair of recliners set near the TV, saying "This isn't one of those games you want to play standing up" Nice. This really was a full-dive game. It's been a while since a good one's been released in the States. Mostly they're sold in China and Japan.

He plops down into the seat next to mine and says "Now, you haven't connected to the Net, right? Like I told you?"

"Yeah," I reply "although a few instructors gave me odd looks, I just told them I was running a large update, and used one of the physical terminals."

"Good man. Now, connect to the Net, and I'll invite you to a match. Well, uh, challange you to a match, I guess"

I do as he says, connecting my NeuroLinker first to his home network, then to the Net at large. Almost immediately, a dialog box appears directly in the center of my vision. The program creating it is labeled as ' ', which I've never heard of before. The box reads [You have been challenged by Navy Charger; Prepare for duel!]

Before i have a chance to ask Arin what the message means, my vision shatters. Everything around me seems to splinter apart, and for a moment I'm left with the impression of a blinding light, then everything quickly fades away.

When my vision returns, however, the world looks very different. The ceiling of Arin's house has caved in in some places, letting in golden sunlight. The ground and walls around me are over-grown with grass and vines, although I can still see cracked concrete in many places. I can even just make out the pinball machine, now laying on the ground with no legs to support it, leaning ponderously to one side.

Beside me, where Arin stood, is an imposing figure clad entirely in some kind of interlocking plate armor. The armor is a deep, dark blue, and where there should have been exposed joints of chain or cloth, there was instead an even finer set of plates interlocking and shifting as the figure turns towards me. Where a face should have been, the figure instead has a simple slightly angled plate, slightly more gray in color than the majority of its body, with two piercing pieces of bright green crystal where its eyes should have been.

I leap back, justfiably surprised, and the figure starts laughing at my reaction. Well, that's not right. Dark, imossing figures don't laugh, do they? After a moment, my surprise at the figure's appearance fades, and I realize that its laughter actually sounds a lot like Arin's!

"Oh! Oh man, that was great!" he says, calming down, "That was the best reaction I could possibly hope for. Seriously, thank you for that." Somewhat hurt, I remain silent, further inspecting his armor. I can almost see swirling patterns in the metal, as if it were painted with the subtlest colors known to man. The patterns evoke an image of the sea, and of giant waves. Also, mounted on his arm is what appears to be a large spike, angled backwards towards his elbow, and extending past it until it's almost level with the top of his head.

Once he's calmed down entirely, he pauses, seemingly to to inspect me, looking me up and down. "Interesting... I don't think I've ever seen a color like that before. This could be a very nice avatar."

"Wait," I cut in, "What are you talking about? I haven't made an avatar yet. And what was that about col-" I cut off the rest of my question. I've just glanced down at myself for the first time, and realized I'm not made of, well, me anymore. My torso appears to be made entirely out of some crystalline substance. It's undeniably white, but as I shift in surprise, I see a rainbow of color refracted off of my arms and chest.

"Prism," Arin mumbles, "Hm. Appropriate." I'm still freaking out quite a bit, and there is an audible strain in my voice as I ask, "Where are we, and why am I... Sparkling?!" Arin laughs again, which is quickly getting on my nerves. "We're in the game, stupid" He quips, "This whole thing is generated from public cameras, as well as our own NeuroLinkers. There're a few gaps here and there, but overall it's rather impressive. As for your character, the game made one for you. Trust me, it's a load more fun this way."

I give him a skeptical look. While he may enjoy playing randomly-generated characters, I'm well known among our friends for custom-creating characters in every game I play, often going so far as to custom-sculpt the avatar's in-game appearance. I often end up breaking those games, combining powers in unintended ways, and becoming insanely over-powered. A random avatar just isn't my style.

Seeing my skepticism, he explains, "This avatar was made by the game, based on your own psyche. It's perfectly designed to be the most effective avatar for you and you alone." I shrug. Not like there's anything I can do about it, I guess. Wait, "It read my mind? There's no way that's legal... Or even possible!"

"I know, right? But it's totally true! Every player here knows it!"

"How have I never heard of this? Surely it's got to have better uses than a dive-game."

"Nope. Whoever made this -no one knows who, by the way- never released the tech. Anyone who's caught trying to reverse engineer the software's been kicked from the game, and their memory is altered so they never know the game existed."

"Come on, man. You've got to be messing with me." There's no way a 'Linker App could wipe someone's mind, right? "Dead serious," Arin responded, shrugging his now armored shoulders, "There's more, but I'll tell you that stuff later."

"For now, let's just go over the basics. See the bars up there?" He motions upwards, towards the top of my vision. When I focus where he's pointing, A set of wide, green bars superimpose themselves over my vision. Between the bars is what looks like a timer. It counts down slowly, just passing [300]. Three hundred seconds left, I guess? That's... 5 minutes? I nod to Arin, letting him know I've seen the bars.

"Those are our Health Bars, just like every other fighting game you've ever played. See the names underneath? Those are ours." look up again, noticing the names printed underneath the bars. The one on the right reads [Navy Charger]. presumably that's Arin's character. It's fitting.

To the left, under what I presume is my Health Bar, is the name 'Quartz Prism'. Well, the quartz part is definitely accurate.

"Each avatar is assigned a name upon it's creation," Arin explains, "Names typically have a color in them, followed by a more general term or object. Simple, right?" I nod. "Now," he continues, "The color of your avatar is indicative of it's stats and abilities. For example, my avatar is a mixture of blue and black, which specialize in melee attacks; blunt and pointed respectively. That's why I've got this,"

As he speaks the last word, he brings his arm forward, and the giant spike on his arm folds downward, hinges sparking and plates grinding against each other. After a split moment, the spike he wore previously -roughly 3 feet long- has folded over his hand, expanding into a wicked-looking lance nearly 6 feet long. Twin jets of flame spew from vents to the side of the lance, and I can see Arin visibly straining to stay in place.

After a moment, the jets cut out again, and the lance folds back under his arm, shrinking back to it's original length. I note a smaller bar undereath his green Health bar. It's blue in color, and started about half-full, but now it's shrunk to about a quarter, grinding out sparks. A Special Move gauge, I suppose?

"That's a special move made only for me, called the Navy Thruster." Arin explained, "Each player's avatar has a entirely custom move-set, which gets more varied as you level up. Now, let's see what you've got, eh?" He demonstrates a motion, bringing his left hand up and to the side, then swiping downwards through the air, "This will call up a menu. Just poke the option that says 'Abilities'."

I copy his action, and a small menu appears to my side. It appears to be made out of a very dented and scratched piece of metal, and a number of chains run along-side it in place of a scroll bar, giving it a very industrial appearance. I select the option that reads 'Abilities', and the menu flies away into sparks, as if it were being put to a grinder. This reveals a second block of metal underneath, with the word 'MOVES' across the top. There's only one entry, showing a figure taking a step forward, and labeled as 'Prism Shift'.

I describe the entry to Arin, who just shrugs, "The image is the action you've got to take to activate the ability. It's odd that it's not an attack, but who really knows what it does. Try copying action it shows, and say the name of the ability out loud to trigger it."

Shrugging, I take a step forward, and say loudly, "Prism Shift!" As I step forward, I feel a small tremor run down my back, and through my legs, making me stumble. I look up sheepishly at Arin, hoping he didn't see my tripping step.

He is looking right at me, but he's not laughing like I'd expected. Instead, his featureless face is gazing silently at me I what I can somehow know is wonder. "What..?" I ask slowly, afraid to know what provoked such an extreme silence from a normally loud and cheerful person.

"You... Changed." He says slowly, as if unable to believe his own words, "Your color changed!" I look down at myself again. Now, instead of being made entirely of white crystals, my body has transformed into a bright green metallic material. The overall shape of my armor seems more or less the same, and my limbs are about the same size, but I feel... Stronger, somehow. Sturdier.

"No way..." Arin says, then dissolves into joyous laughter. "No freakin' way! You can change colors? That's supposed to be impossible!" He begins dancing back and forth, hopping from one foot to the other in excitement, "I knew I was right to choose you! I knew it! You feel stronger now, yeah? More solid?"

"How did you know?" I ask, unsure why my power is such a big deal. Usually plenty of characters can change classes, and this seems no different to me. Arin stops dancing around in front of me, once more adopting the role of instructor, "Like I said, each color indicates different attributes. Green stands fo defensive strength. Judging from the saturation of your armor, you got quite the boost. You could probably survive a blow from my lance, even with the difference in levels." He glances upwards for a moment, then returns his attention to me.

"Alright, the match is almost over," I glance upwards at the timer, which is just ticking past 020. "Right now, we've both got the same Health, so the match'll end in a tie. I may as well give you a few extra points, so go ahead and take a swing at me."

Shrugging, I wind up and slug him squarely in the face. He lets out a loud grunt, which is odd, since these games shouldn't actually make you feel pain. That'd be terrible. Arin stumbles backward a step and manages to regain his balance. He looks at me, eyes blazing with a combination of anger and amusement, "I meant in the shoulder, moron."

Just as he finishes the word 'moron' , the timer strikes [000], and the world again dissolves into light, righting itself a moment later as Arin's basement. I glance at my watch reflexively, as I always do after playing a Full-Dive game. To my surprise, my watch shows the exact same time as when the match started. At first, I assume the watch is dead, but the second hand continues to move dutifully across the watch face.

I glance quizzically over at Arin, who's grinning at me from his seat in the other chair, "How long were we in there for?" He looks to me with a gaze of pride and satisfaction, as if knowing what he's about to say will throw me for a loop.

"Less than a second."


	3. Chapter 3 - Gift From the System

I stared at Arin, dumbly. Less than a second? How is that possible? We were in there for at least five minutes. Could we have... Stopped time?

I ask Arin, and he laughs again, which has officially become irritating. "No," he says, "we didn't quite stop time, although we came pretty close." I look at him quizzically, not quite sure what he means. "You see," He explains, "This program, Brain Burst, is meant to be used out in the world, having players engage in battle with each other out on the street, or in public buildings. Since it's a full-dive game, it'd look a little suspicious if people just started spacing out during their day, right?" I shrug. Full-dive games that take place in real locations have been made before, but never really took off, due to the aforementioned spacing out.

"Well," Arin continues, ignoring my noncommittal answer, "This game doesn't have that problem. Somehow, this program can tap into your nervous system using the NeuroLinker, and use that link to accelerate your heartbeat and mental impulses." I remain silent. If this is true, this game isn't just revolutionary, it's potentially world-changing.

"The best part, though, is that this advantage doesn't only apply to the game-world. When you won that match, it gave you some points, yeah?" I nod. Apparently, I got a large bonus for defeating an enemy of a higher level than me. "Those points are the game's currency. You can use them to buy items, or level up your avatar, like XP. Its most important use, however, is Acceleration." He looks at me, expectantly, as if that word explains everything that's just happened.

I shrug, "Care to explain what that means to us noobs?" I ask, with an air of sarcastic playfulness I don't feel. "It means," he says patiently, "that you can spend this currency to accelerate you mind in the real world!

Dumbfounded, I take a minute to find my voice, "So... I could... Think faster?"

"Sort of, although it's not quite that simple. Look, for now, just forget about that part. It's not a good idea for new players to Accelerate too much anyway. It drains their point pretty quickly." I sag, slightly disappointing. That had sounded like an incredible experience. Well, I guess l'll just have to wait.

"For now," he said, distracting me, "Let's try a little more training. This time, you try challenging me. Just to learn how it works." He guides me through the process of activating battle program, and selecting Arin's avatar, "It says you're only level 3. haven't you been playing this game for a while?" He nods, "About two months, now. It's important not to level up until you actually need to." Not quite understanding, I just shrugged. "Besides," he continues, "The level cap's only ten, anyway. And no one's ever made it past level nine."

"Okay," I say, "I'll bite. Why hasn't anyone hit ten?"

"They haven't been willing to, really. To get past level nine, you've got to defeat seven other ninth-level players."

"That doesn't sound too bad, though," I argue, "I could do that in a few weeks, probably. How many level-niners are there?"

"Depends. In Japan, there're eight. They've each formed a kind of truce with each other, and don't battle often. Here in North America, there are about an equal number. As far as I know, though, they're still at war."

"But what's the big deal?" I ask, sure I'm missing something important, "They should easily be able to take each other out. Even assuming a fifty-fifty win/loss ratio, they should still have hit ten by now."

"Oh yeah, right," Arin stops, "I forgot for a second just how new you are." I'm sure he meant that as some kind of compliment, but somehow I still feel a little insulted. "If two level nines fight, the winner gets all of the loser's points."

"And that matters because..?"

"When your points hit zero, you lose the game, and your memories of playing it, just like I told you earlier. To get to ten, you've got to play a perfect game against seven opponents just as over-powered as you. Losing is a permanant game-over."

"So, not an attractive prospect, then."

"Right. Now hurry up and challenge me already." Now that he's run out of things to say' Arin looks excited to get another match going. I can't blame him. I tap his name in the menu, waiting patiently to the side of my view, and it too grinds away into nothing. A message appears before me reading "prepare to fight!", and the world dissolves once more.

After another blinding moment, the basement again resolves around me. I adjust to the new location and differences to body shape much faster this time. Either I'm getting used to this sensation extremely quickly, or the program's modifying my brain somehow. I'm over putting anything past this game.

"So," I turn to Arin, standing imposing in the same deep blue armor he wore in the last match, "You've got that giant-ass lance, what do I get?" He shrugs, "Usually your weapon's attached directly to your avatar, like mine. Since you don't have that luxury," he gestures at me empty hands, "You've probably got the second most common type of weapon; Enhanced Armament" I'm getting tired of looking confused, but that's about all I can do in response.

"It's just a fancy name for extra equipment." He explains, "You can buy it with Points later on, but some avatars come with something when they're created." He helps me open my Inventory, going through the same menu that took me to 'Abilities' earlier. I open it up, and indeed find an item waiting for me. Hesitantly, I tap it, and a second panel overlays the first. It reads;

[Prism Focus] [Focuses a Prism's power into a tangible form based on surrounding hues]

I shrug, and read the entry out to Arin. "Well," he returns my shrug, "I have no idea what that means." Wow, that's just super helpful. "Try activating it. Just hold your hand out and say its name."

I do, holding my arm out ahead of me, and speaking aloud, "Enhanced Armament; Prism Focus!" Immediately, small portals open around my open palm. intricately small mechanical parts fly out of these portals, landing in my hand, locking together with other segments in small splashes of sparks, until the portals close and I'm left holding a small white cube, a little over a half-foot wide and with no obvious use.

I hold it up to Arin, shrugging, "Is this normal?" I ask, "Do I need to do something else?" He returns my shrug, obviously confused himself, "I don't think so..." He muses, "I've never actually used one of these before. Is there a switch or something?" I turn the cube over in my hands, and find what looks like a small button on one of its faces, right next to where my thumb was resting. Curiously, I press it.

The cube breaks apart, different panels and components flying around it, throwing off sparks. Almost immediately, it folds back in upon itself, giving off one last flash on sparks and a satisfying metallic clang! Inspecting the new object in my hand, it's obvious I'm holding some kid of handgun. The barrel is quite short, and the body is thick and sturdy, making it obvious that the weapon is meant to inflict real damage.

Arin whistles, which is odd to see, since he currently has no lips -or mouth- to whistle with. "Well, that's more like it!" He exclaims, "I was starting to worry there. Well, if you're armed, there's nothing to do but put you to battle, eh?"

Wait, battle? Like, against someone else? "Uhm," I hedge, "I don't think I'm ready. Shouldn't we, like, spar or something first?"

"No offense, man," Arin replies, "But with the level difference, I'd wipe the floor with you. I'll poke around and see if anyone else has a new player they're looking to break in. With some luck, they won't have much more experience than you."

Well, that sounds pretty final. I guess I'm learning to fight the old fashioned way. Being honest with myself, I'm terrified.


	4. Chapter 4 - First Steps

I stand in an empty street, overgrown with grass and scrub brush. To my sides, partially crumbled buildings provide structure to creeping bundles of ivy, and shelter enterprising saplings.

A few blocks down the road, another avatar stands confidently, arms folded before it. I too stand in my avatar, throwing off a small rainbow of refracted light. My hands clench and unclench unconsciously, making obvious my apprehension. Around me, on the top of ruined office buildings, I can just barely make out other avatars, watching me. They would have come to see the new players in the area.

A tone sounds, and the timer above me begins counting down; [999], [998], [997]... The other avatar wastes no time, running towards me with a loping gait. It gets to within a city block of me, as I stand indecisively in place, and slides to a halt. It's close enough now that I can make out some details in its armor. It's made almost entirely out of large, blocky segments, locking together into a humanoid shape. Its armor is a deep and unmistakable red, which Arin warned me earlier indicates a ranged combatant. I glance up at his name. It reads [Bloodied Pounder]. No give-away on information there.

As I stand silently, nervously evaluating my opponent, he smoothly flexes his arms backwards, and a pair of compartments at the front of his shoulders spring open, spewing out trails of smoke towards me.

Reflexively, I dodge to the side, cursing my nervous mind for letting me remain in place. I need to find shelter _now_. That guy must be firing missiles of some kind.

I duck towards one of the ruined buildings to my right, narrowly avoiding a second salvo of smoke and flame. I land hard against a slab of partially crumbled concrete, hoping it will be enough to shield me.

Outside, the rockets stop firing, and I'm not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. On the one hand, I'd been hoping my opponent would exhaust more of his -hopefully- limited ammunition. On the other hand, I'm glad he's not just trying to bring the entire building down on me.

I glance over the top of my questionable shelter, and see him calmly stalking towards me. I duck back behind my cover and silently count to ten, hearing his footsteps slowly approaching. At ten, I take a deep breath, and dash from my cover deeper into the building. As I run, I let out my breath, calling out "Enhanced Armament; Prism Focus!" I feel the item form in my hand, and immediately trigger it, switching it into its pistol form.

Just as I get behind another sagging wall, I hear gunshots, and see small puffs of dust from just around the corner. Great, he's got a gun too. I was kind of hoping he only had those missiles. Oh well. At least now that he's in here with me, he shouldn't be able to fire his missiles.

Holding my pistol to my chest, I listen intently, waiting for him to approach me. I hear him coming, and again dash out from behind the wall, firing off a few shots in his direction, and hide back on the other side of the opening.

The first shot connects, hitting him in the shoulder, and the other two go wild, flying harmlessly over his head. I peek past the corner, and see the damaged shoulder spark and explode, causing my opponent to leap back and cry out in surprise.

I grin, pulling back into cover. I may actually have a chance here. All I've got to do is hold out 'till the timer runs out, an-

 _BOOM!_

The concrete I'm pressed against explodes outward, sending me flying forward, and smashing me into the opposite wall. I hit hard, and my vision grows spotty. Damn it, that _hurt!_ This wasn't supposed to hurt was it? It's only a game!

I don't have time to recover, as the enemy avatar steps over me and stomps down on my hand, which still holds my pistol. I grunt, involuntarily releasing my only weapon.

He laughs, and I hear his voice for the first time. It seems to grind out of his mouth, echoing through the enclosed space, giving the illusion of someone speaking into a tin can, "Sorry little guy," He chuckles, "Just sit there and take it. I'll try to be quick." I can hear the smirk in his voice, although his featureless face remains blank, adding to the eerie quality of his voice.

He's so busy gloating, however, that he fails to notice the ceiling above him slowly start to crumble inwards. It was already weak, vines growing through its supports, and Pounder's missiles were the final blow that set it to collapse.

I sit still, bidding my energy, preparing to dodge out of the way of the imminent debris. The larger fighter seems to take my silence as surrender, and places a pistol to my forehead, ready to take the final shot.

I can't wait any longer. I prop myself up with my free arm, and drive my shoulder into my assailant's knee. He grunts in surprise, stumbling backwards, and I leap for my discarded pistol. I hear the larger body of my opponent smash into a concrete pillar, smashing it to pieces.

The ceiling caves in, losing its only support. There's no way I can get away in time. In a panic, I activate my only ability, desperate to do something to save myself. I drop my gun, call out "Prism Shift," feel a tremor run through my body, and experience the sky collapsing on above me.

I regain consciousness just a few moments later, and manage to dig myself out from under the debris. I'm shaken, but evidently still alive. Peering around, I find what's left of my opponent. A stubby torso, missing an arm and both legs. I glance down at my own body, and see a metallic green armor, dented and scratched, but still intact. This defense power's nothing to laugh at. I deactivate Prism Shift, and find my gun a few feet away.

I hear a click and a sound like quickly leaking air. Turning, I see Bloodied Pounder's remaining shoulder sitting open. A pathetic plume of smoke sputtering from the one remaining missile housed within. I walk over, kneeling down next to him and pressing the pistol to his head, "Sorry, buddy. Good game."

I pull the trigger, and the world dissolves into light.


	5. Chapter 5 - A Tempting Offer

I emerge from the oblivious stupor of Net-Diving, blinking a few times and waiting for my eyes to adjust to reality. I'm standing on a sidewalk, outside a downtown net-cafe. My first battle's just ended, and somehow, I managed to come out on top.

I walk quietly down the sidewalk, trying not to draw attention. Arin warned that a player's real name is their most carefully guarded secret. Apparently, there's a precedent for duelists learning their opponent's identity, and endlessly challenging them to duels, draining their points away to nothing.

That's the least of my problems.

I take a detour on my route back to Arin's to grab myself some coffee. I need something real to focus on, to keep my mind off of the phantom pains still running through my body. What was up with that? Those attacks _hurt!_ These games aren't supposed to hurt. That's all kinds of illegal.

Gratefully, I accept my coffee from the barista, feeling my arm ache momentarily where Bloodied Pounder had stepped down on it. The pain disappears before my coins hit the bored employee's outstretched hand, leaving my arm feeling perfectly fine, if not a little numb.

Coffee in hand, I resume my hurried stride back to Arin's home. Making my way out of the heavily-populated shopping district towards the quieter residential areas, I can almost convince myself the pain I felt in the duel wasn't real. Just a figment of my imagination, made real through ultra-realistic environments and the power of suggestion.

I almost believe myself. I _try_ to believe the pain wasn't real, but in the end it's undeniable. Will this happen in _every_ duel? How can anyone subject themselves to this? What's the point?

I'm so caught up in my own mind that I walk past Arin's house, moving two or three properties down before realizing my error. I turn around, sheepishly retracing my steps. At least there's no one around to see, I think to myself, heading for Arin's driveway. Wait... Actually, is that someone over there? I squint slightly, staining my eyes to adjust to the distance.

Yes. There, maybe five or six blocks back the way I came. I can't make out any details, other than a brief flash of green. Perhaps a shirt or hat or something. For some reason, the figure walking towards me gives me the creeps.

Shivering, I turn back to Arin's house, running the last few steps up his driveway. I enter without knocking, striding down the unaccommodating stairs two at a time, still somewhat put off by the figure outside.

As I hit the basement landing, Arin looks up from the game of pinball he'd been playing. The machine lets out a disappointed _bing_ as his final ball falls past the flippers into the gutter, ending the game. He gives the game an irritated glare, and turns back to me.

"Well done," He grins, walking over and clapping me on the shoulder, "That thing where you collapsed the building? Amazing!" He laughs, "That guy never saw it coming!" I remain silent, waiting for him to calm down. "What happened at the end, there? I saw smoke or something, but nothing happened. Did he try to blow you up?"

"He did." I say, simply, "His missile failed."

"Well, good luck for you, then. Hey," he notices my bland answer, "Something up?"

"Why did it hurt?"

"Why..."

"Why did it _hurt,_ Arin?! When he hit me, I felt _pain!_ A lot of it!"

"Oh..." His face falls, somewhat, growing more serious, "Right. I forgot about that. I guess I just got used to it after a while."

"Used to being beaten within an inch of your life?!" I practically scream, "Why would anyone subject themselves to that? Why would _you_ subject yourself to that?" It makes no sense. Sure, the game's well-made, and it's incredibly immersive, but...

"He was missing his _legs_ , Arin! Could he feel that?" My God... What if I...

"Did I kill him?"

Arin shakes his head strongly, "No you didn't kill him, and yes, his legs probably hurt like Hell. But there's a reason we do this." He takes my shoulder, and sighs, "Look, I promise he's alright, okay? As soon as the match ended, he returned to the real world, and continued living his life. No missing limbs and no death. I promise."

Arin's words do comfort me somewhat, but I'm still shaken by what I've just experienced, "But why? I still don't understand why he'd agree to something like this. Why would anyone put themselves through that?"

"Well," He starts to reply, "Most matches aren't that bad and..." He sighs, breaking off the rest of his sentence, "Okay. I'll show you why. I didn't want to show this to you yet, to help you save your winnings, but maybe that was a stupid idea. You got points for beating that guy, right?"

I nodded, unsure of what to say. "Alright, then." Arin took me back to the pinball machine, and started the game, "Now, when I tell you to, I want to say the word 'Burst' followed by the word 'Link', okay?"

"Right." I mutter. What's this going to do? It's obviously a verbal command for my NeuroLinker, but it's not one I've ever heard before. Is it for that game? Probably. What does it do, though? Could it, perhaps, start another battle? Do I really want to go through that again?

As I wage my internal debate, Arin pulls the plunger back, and releases the ball. Immediately, he starts battering the buttons to either side of the machine, bringing forth a cacophony of _bing_ s and _bleep_ s. "Now," he glances at me, keeping the ball moving without so much as looking at it, "I want you to tell me my score, before the ball hits the drain, alright?"

I gulp nervously. The ball's hitting at least three or four different targets every second, in a completely random pattern. I try to track the score's changes, looking for some pattern, but have no luck. Suddenly, Arin yells, "Say the words now!" I do, frantically calling out,

 _"Burst Link!"_

The world grinds to a halt around me. I blink, sheepishly, and take a step backwards in surprise. Moving back, I step through my own body. I scream. A very manly scream, mind you, but a scream nonetheless. Once I've gotten all of that panic out of my system, I take a better look around me.

The world is tinged entirely in a blueish purple, and my initial assessment was slightly off; the world hasn't stopped, but slowed down immensely. Looking at Arin, I see his hands lethargically moving away from the paddle controls, like he's flinging his hands away. I glance to the ball and see it, too is moving slowly on its way. I have to look closely to see the movement, but it's definitely there.

Looking back to where I stood, I see my own body, frozen in place, staring at the pinball machine. Looking down at my hands, I see my Net avatar's hands, based on an inventor from around the 20th century, Nikola Tesla. Presumably, my face remains the same, as it does online, but I'm wearing a vintage suit without a day's wear on it despite its age, and see a few glowing blue apparatus running down the left arm - a creative liberty I took in creating the avatar.

Looking back at the pinball machine, I note the movement of the ball, heading towards the gutter along the side. Looking up at the scoreboard, I see a score of 105,850, which is an impressive score considering the short time Arin was playing.

So, that's the score he wanted, then. Now, how do I get out of... this? I try repeating the command that brought me here, calling out " _Burst Link_ " to no avail. I try calling out "Exit!", "Quit!", "Cancel!", and an embarrassing number of other similar words and phrases before stumbling upon the working combo, " _Burst Out!_ "

My vision snaps back into place, returning me to my real body in a disorienting flash of movement. I grip the pinball machine for support, hearing the ball hit the gutter, and the machine let out a small _bing_ before growing quiet.

Not raising my head to look at the board, I tell Arin his score, and throw in how many balls he has left, just for the heck of it. He laughs, clapping me on the back as I look up, steady again.

"You see?" He asks, excited, "This is one of the reasons we do this! There's other stuff like that as you get higher levels, but that's mostly the one people make use of."

"Okay," I concede, "That was pretty awesome. How did that happen, though?"

"Same as the game itself. It creates a 3-D image of the area based on public and private cameras, as well as your NeuroLinker's camera suite. Then it just accelerates you and lets you walk around the digital environment in real time!"

"That's..." I fumble for a word to aptly describe my wonder, "Awesome." Yeah. Real nice work there, Shakespeare.

"So," Arin prods me, expectantly, "You in? We could start our own little guild."

Am I in? That battle was brutal but... I'd be lying if I said it wasn't exciting. And that Acceleration power would be _insanely_ handy. Already I can think of hundreds of ways to use it out in the world.

I turn to Arin, trying to hide the excitement in my face. Pause for dramatic effect, and...

"I'm in."


	6. Chapter 6 - War Focus

Weeks pass, and I slowly grow accustomed –or, rather, desensitized- to the spectacle of Brain Burst and its duels. Although I've lost my strong aversion to seeing enemies lying on the ground, missing limbs, I've never quite managed to get used to the physical pain I feel whenever they land a blow on _me_. As a result, I've come to rely heavily on my defensive [Prism Shift] ability, and have started winning a large number of matches by default – simply landing an opening blow and retreating 'till the timer runs out and the match ends.

Although it's slow going, I eventually accrue enough Burst Points that Arin admits I'm probably ready to level up for the first time. He takes me into the duel-field once more, this time a metallic wasteland, with large spires of iron rising into the distance outside the windows of his basement, now replaced by steel bars.

"So, just tap the 'Avatar' menu, and there should be a level-up option there somewhere," Arin explains, standing in his full, imposing armor. I nod and tap the indicated menu option, and a metal window appears in front of me, as is common with these menu screens.

"It's asking me what I want to put my 'Bonus' into?" I nod to Arin, reading the options, "There's [War Focus], [Crystal Strength], and something that just says [Speed +]."

"Right," he clarifies, "There's always three options every time you level up. The first one improves your abilities or armaments, the second is typically a new ability, and the third is almost always some generic stat boost. That's not _always_ how it works, but it's sort of the basic formula."

I nod and tap the first option. After all, it turns out my ability really is unprecedented, and it makes sense that I should capitalize on it. Besides, the other bonues sound a lot less cool anyway.

There's a grinding sound as the menu disappears, and I'm left standing beside Arin, feeling depressingly unchanged. I call open the Abilities menu, wondering if perhaps there's an explanation of what's changed.

There's still just the one entry; it looks like the name and motions haven't changed either. At first I'm confused. Did the system just rip me off? Looking at my balance, I can see 100 Points missing, so the game definitely got my money. So where's my upgrade?

I look at Arin, who only shrugs stupidly, his arms crossed. Man, I'd really like something to hit him with right about now. Shouldn't he be worried I got ripped off too? Sighing, I take a step forward and call out "Prism Shift!" Like always, I feel a slight disorientation, but I've learnt to minimize stumbling, so it's barely noticeable to anyone other than myself.

Slowly, Arin uncrosses his arms, staring at me but remaining silent. What? Is he still that amazed with my ability to turn _green_ of all things? That's getting a little - I glance down at my arms, and I am most certainly _not_ green.

My arms, normally fairly thin by Duel-Avatar standards, have gotten larger, much like they always do when I use [Prism Shift], but this time they have no additional armor, and the increase in size looks to be made of the more flexible material underneath. Muscle, I suppose.

The most striking difference, however, isn't in the shape of my arms; it is, of course, in their color. The metal plating that remains on my upper and lower arms is a deep cobalt blue. That's the color for melee characters, isn't it?

Arin finally snaps out of his speechlessness, returning to his loud and enthusiastic self. "OH MAN!" he yells, practically jumping up and down, "You did it again! You changed colors _again!_ " I remain speechless. Does this mean that I've unlocked a new way to use Prism Shift? Or have I just changed it? I ask Arin, and he just shrugs, still looking me up and down.

"There's really no way for me to know. Remember, this kind of thing's a first!" I nod. I guess I'll just have to try changing to green again, to see if I still can. "Hey," I snap my fingers in Arin's face, motioning up to where my Special Gauge would be in his vision, nearly empty, "I'm going to try for green again. Let my nail you with a few shots to get the energy."

He sighs, but nods and steps back, bracing himself against the pain, "Just hit the arms or something, alright?"

I laugh, and call out "Enhanced Armament; Prism Focus!" The cube forms in my hand, and I press the trigger as soon as it finishes, triggering a fresh burst of sparks.

Immediately, I can tell something's different. Instead of growing smaller and more compact, it stretches up, out of my hand, spraying sparks the whole way. It finishes, giving off a last brief flash and resolving into the shape of a long, straight-edged sword. It's got to be at least a four feet long, and as I grip the pommel the blade begins to hum, turning a blazing amber color.

Startled, I nearly drop the weapon. What happened to my gun? Did that change with the level up too?

"Hey!" Arin calls, "Where'd you get that? I thought you only had that little pistol."

"I did." I respond, "This is it." I find a small notch on the back of the cross guard with my thumb, and the weapon flashes into sparks and moving components again. A moment later it reappears as the white cube Arin and I recognize.

"Well," he takes a step back, "Getting shot is one thing, but I am _not_ about to lose an arm to that thing." He looks around us, as if wishing to find someone else to take the attacks. Obviously, he finds no one.

"Look, just… Punch me for a while. That should still work, albeit slower that a gunshot."

I take him up on his offer, pounding away at his chest, which he insists has extra armor, although I still hear him grunting underneath that metal helm, and still see his Health grind slowly down. Could I have gotten an attack boost of some kind? I guess it would make sense, all things considered.

After about a minute of straight jabs, my Special Gauge is nearly filled, so I take a step backwards, and use [Prism Shift] once more, silently hoping to come out of it in the sturdy green form I've come to rely on.

To my relief, I do indeed come out green. I sigh, releasing a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I guess I didn't notice just how much I depend on this defensive boost. I should probably work on that somehow… Although, duels'll be a whole lot easier now that I can actually deal some damage.

Experimentally, I re-activate the cube still sitting in my hand, watching it fly apart yet again. This time, though, it ends up as a large, emerald-colored shield strapped to my arm. Holding it forward, the shield covers my entire upper-body, and has to be at least four feet high, and half as wide.

Arin, apparently getting used to my numerous avatar changes, whistles slightly. Without warning, he calls out "Navy Thruster!" His lance folds down in a shower of sparks and rushes towards me, smoke roaring from the jets near the tip. I yelp and raise the shield reflexively. The impact jars my whole body, sending me flying back into the iron wall. I grunt, and see my Health Gauge grind down by about 20 percent in the corner of my vision.

Arin backs off as quickly as he attacked, folding the lance back up behind his arm, and reaching out to grab my shoulder with his other hand, to steady me. "That was good." He acclaims, "You're still a level lower than me, and I had surprise on you." He lightly raps the shield with a knuckle, "A direct hit like that should've pierced this sucker and done at least twice the damage." He laughs, "I guess your defense buff extends to the shield too."

Detaching and turning the shield around, I see only a moderate-sized dent where the lance connected, with no puncture whatsoever. It's a little hard to believe, but this thing's even more resilient than I am. In my excitement, I say something supremely idiotic;

"Come on, man. Hit me again! I need to get this down _now_. Can you imagine how sweet an advantage this'll be?"

Arin just chuckles, and takes a step back, readying himself, "Alright. But remember, you asked for this." His lance folds out, and he settles into that looks disturbingly like a swordsman's stance. He waits a moment, giving me time to re-attach my shield, then calls out in a nearly giddy voice "Armada Sever!"

From behind my barrier, I can just see the tip of his lance lifted high into the air. At his call, the weapon splits down along its length, and emits a violent blue energy, coalescing into a sharp bladed form. Time seems to slow as the blade falls, and in the corner of my vision, I notice far too late that I'm mere moments from using up my Special Energy and reverting to my normal, weaker form. And, if my guess is right, I'll lose my shield as soon as my green color fades.

I watch, helplessly as my Energy runs out, and my body fades back to stark white. My shield dissolves into flying metal just as Arin's weapon is about to connect, and the blade sails through the metal segments, straight into my face.

I awake standing next to Arin's pinball machine, where he was playing a game before we entered the field. The disappointing sound of the ball dropping into the gutter is the perfect punctuation to my humiliating mistake.

Arin just stands at the front of the machine, his face about half-way between a gigantic grimace and a wicked laugh. Well, I suppose I can't blame him. That was a stupid move on my part. But still, "Did you really have to go for the super-move?"

"Oh, please," he finally decides on a laugh, "That wasn't even my best move! How was I supposed to know you'd collapse at the last possible second?"

"Whatever. I want a rematch, for real this time. I want to see you try to hit me at my best."

"Ha. You _do_ remember that I'm still a higher level, right? That one single attack was enough to lay you out! And, like I said, that wasn't even my best"

"Yeah, yeah," I wave my hand in his face, "You're _so_ big and scary. I'll just have to not get hit." I paste on an intentionally bland expression, "What, are you afraid of losing to someone 'weaker' than you?"

His mouth stretches to a thin smile, his eyes squint almost imperceptibly, and I grin. I know I've got him now. Last time I saw that expression, I wiped the floor with him in one of his old arcade fighters after three straight loses. I just hope this contest isn't as close as it was that last time; I won with only 1% of my health left, with a hefty penalty for a missing arm.

Without breaking gazes, he and I simultaneously call out the command to activate the game, and challenge our opponent to duel.


End file.
